


Healing Hands

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Massage, Partial Nudity, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The weeks of travel and combat are taking their toll. Isii is exhausted and her back is aching by the time she crawls into the tent she shares with Solas. Luckily her companion is a healer and he offers to soothe her aches with a massage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Hands

**Author's Note:**

> _Pre-Relationship. Takes place shortly before their trip to Redcliffe._

Isii crawled into the tent, barely wrestling her way out of her jacket as she collapsed face-down onto her bedroll. She stilled, lying there for a moment, too tired to move despite the slow suffocation of having her face buried in her pillow. When she rolled onto her side she began to writhe, shifting and curling and stretching, trying to angle herself into a position that would lessen the strain on her back. She’d pushed herself too hard today. She wasn’t sure precisely what did it – the climbing, the weight of her pack, some overreaching swing with her staff – but she’d managed to pull something along her spine. While it hadn’t bothered her much at first, her muscles had slowly tightened over the course of the afternoon and now the idea of doing anything but lying motionless in her tent was unbearable. While she found the rigors of her life among the Dalish left her relatively well-equipped for the demands of the Inquisition, the long days of endless travelling interrupted by exhausting bouts of combat were still proving difficult to adjust to.

She could hear the others shifting about the camp – the familiar rustling and quiet conversation that usually surrounded preparing their evening meal. Isii didn’t care about the hollow feeling in her belly. She knew she should eat something but that would require movement. After a few moments, she heard the tent flap shift behind her. “Do you intend to eat with us or should I set something aside for later?” She didn’t look up at the sound of Solas’s voice, merely groaning. She heard more rustling, the tent falling shut as he stooped further in. He knelt beside her, his hand moving to her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” she grumbled. “My back is killing me, though. I just need to lie here for a while.”

“I could help alleviate your discomfort, if you would like.”

She glanced up, her brows lifting. “Whatever you have in mind, I’m all for it.”

He quietly pushed back his sleeves, nodding. “Roll onto your stomach.”

She obeyed, trying not to hiss as she shifted stiffly into position. She could feel the tingle of healing magic moving through her tunic, a wave of heat that washed over her as he pressed his hands to her back. She expected him to simply place his hands over her, surprised when his fingers began to move, kneading small circles into her flesh. She let out a low groan, muffling it into her pillow. He started near the base of her spine, slowly working his way up. It felt good, though the tunic was unpleasantly rough, his hands not gliding the way they would if he were touching her skin-to-skin. She hesitated a moment, thinking as he continued to press into her back. Should she ask if he would be willing to slip his hands under her shirt – or possibly if she could remove it altogether? It wasn’t as if she was shy nor would she be entirely bare. She’d still have her breastband on. And it wasn’t like he was some sort of stranger to her anymore. They’d been sharing a tent for weeks now. She’d grown rather comfortable with him. She didn’t want to make things awkward – but then again, a man who knew the healing arts wouldn’t be squeamish around a little bared flesh, now would he?

She lifted her head, her fingers slipping behind her back to tug on her shirt. “Do you mind if I take this off?” she asked.

She felt him pause for a moment before lifting his hands from her back. “I suppose not, if that would make you more comfortable.”

She pushed back against her knees, lifting her chest just enough to squirm out of her tunic. She tossed it aside, quickly moving back into place for him to resume his work. When his hands met her back again, she let out a sigh, a soft cooing sound catching in her throat.

“Ooh, that is so much better,” she murmured. She could feel his magic with much more clarity this way, the effect spreading like warm water though her veins. His hands searched her back with slow, deliberate sweeps, following the contours of aching muscles. Each time he found a knot he would pause, stretching and pulling it slowly with his fingertips, letting his magic flow into her in soft pulses that had her whimpering with relief. She bit back the urge to whine when she felt his hands pull away, turning her head awkwardly to try and peer over her shoulder. “Please tell me you’re not stopping there…”

He chuckled. “Merely changing position,” he reassured her. She felt him shift behind her, his knee nudging between her own until she moved to accommodate, letting him kneel over one of her legs so he could press his weight evenly across her back.

“You could do this to me all night,” she purred happily into her pillow.

“I’ll take that into consideration,” he said calmly.

He worked his way up once more, slowly, leaning forward to curl his grip around her shoulders, clever fingers pinching away the tension in her neck. She couldn’t help but writhe, twisting her hips, shuddering under the heat of his magic. The tension began to melt away and she bit at her lip, trying to stifle the urge to moan.

“Isii,” he said haltingly, his voice low as he leaned over her, “it would help if you did not squirm quite so much.”

“Right,” she said, turning her head to rest her cheek on her pillow. “Sorry.” She tried to consciously stop her hips from twitching as he walked his fingertips down, planting his hands against the small of her back. He flattened his palms, fanning his fingers outward.

“Take a deep breath,” he coached her with a whisper. She obeyed. When her lungs reached their peak, she felt him cast into her skin. All that delicious heat from before was replaced by a sudden chill, a cooling wave that gave her gooseflesh. The sensation was as pleasurable as it was shocking, the hard moan that escaped her lips surprising her with its intensity. It was a loud and undeniably lewd sound, her hand flying to her mouth far too late to quell it. She felt Solas grow very still behind her as the distant murmured conversation between Cassandra and Varric outside fell silent.

“What exactly are you two up to?” Varric called out.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Solas answered as Isii began to shake with laughter, pressing her palm harder against her lips. She felt him lean down again, his lips close to her ear. “You may want to keep your voice down.”

She was giggling as she lowered her hand, warmth spreading from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. “Sorry.”

“The damage is already done, I suppose,” Solas said, a humorous warmth to his tone as he continued to bring the icy chill of his touch up along the back of her neck, making her shiver. “He will certainly ask for details later. He has already grown fairly accustomed to interrogating me when not in your presence.”

“Is that so?”

“Not exclusively, of course. He seems keenly interested in your interpersonal relations among all the members of the Inquisition. I’m fairly certain he intends for his next book to feature you as its subject.”

Isii snorted softly, shoving her face back down into the pillow as she laughed. “I look forward to reading the riveting chapter in which the Herald gets a massage. Knowing some of the things he’s written, I’m sure he’ll make it quite salacious. It would probably sell more books if he turns an innocent healing session into the Maker’s Chosen being seduced by a dangerous apostate.”

“That’s one interpretation, I suppose,” he said, eliciting another pleasured sigh from her as he pressed heat into her back once more.

“Gods that feels good,” she groaned.

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Your hands are truly blessed,” she added with a chuckle. “Sylaise enaste.”

“If you say so.”

“I’d be happy to return the favor sometime. Not tonight, though. I’m fairly certain I’m going to be an immobile little elven puddle for the next hour or so.”

He chuckled. “I had no intention of receiving the same treatment,” he said. “I’m simply providing what I can for your benefit. Your well-being is part of what I am here for. If I can contribute to that with something as simple as a massage, then so be it.”

She hummed happily. “Careful, Solas. Keep talking like that and I’ll start dragging you around with me everywhere.”

“Ma nuvenin,” he murmured quietly.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation:  
> Sylaise enaste - Sylaise's blessing. As she is the goddess of the healing arts, Isii is essentially saying that he has her hands.  
> Ma nuvenin - as you wish
> 
> I may have written this as some sort of wish fulfillment because I'm not feeling well and would _kill_ to get a good massage right now. It's inspired by a [headcanon ](http://geeky-jez.tumblr.com/post/108218501368/so-fluffy-headcanon-time-solas-gives-the-best)someone sent me a long time ago on tumblr.


End file.
